The Good Hair Family Sitcom

S3 E1.1: Read Into It

Buffy's POV

After expelling the last of my insides into the toilet, I come back out to my bedroom, feeling like I've just been on a see-saw for two weeks straight. While I climb back into bed, the door floats open, and my husband glides in.

"How's the morning sickness?" Marty asks.

"I woke up twice to throw up during the night."

"Yeah, I heard. You don't have work today, right?"

I shake my head, "Thankfully, it's my day off. I feel horrible."

"Stay in bed," Marty tells me. "I'm gonna get you breakfast."

"Thank you," I say with a smile. Right when he's about to leave, I speak again. "Marty, can you make—?"

"Pancakes are frying," he answers before I finish my question.

"Thanks. But haven't you been upstairs for, like, ten minutes?"

He glances behind him then corrects his previous statement. "Pancakes are burning."

I can't help but smile and laugh as he leaves to take care of the food. I'm still feeling kinda gross, but it's getting better, accelerating quicker when Cara peeks into the room with her curly hair tied up with a piece of Christmas ribbon meant for wrapping presents.

"Mom, are you done throwing up?"

"Yeah, for now," I reply.

Cara enters the rest of the way in, uncovering a plate with a piece of bread and jam on it. Grinning wide, she brings it over to the bed and climbs up beside me.

"What's this?" I ask.

"I made you toast for breakfast," she explains, handing me the plate, "but I couldn't find the toaster."

The effort is what counts, and her effort is very sweet, so I respond with, "Thank you. I love it."

"Whenever I'm sick, you always take care of me," she says, "but your mom is slacking off—"

"She's in Palm Springs on a trip."

"Sounds like excuses. So I'm gonna be your mom."

"That's not quite how it works," I say with a laugh.

"Well, how does it work?" she ruptures. "Because no one will tell me, and I know it's not brain waves! A boy in my class told me something, but it's gross, and I don't believe it."

"Well, um..."

This wasn't exactly the time I expected to have this talk, especially not while my stomach is doing somersaults inside me, wringing itself inside out. My saving grace comes in a couple second when Marty enters with a glass of orange juice.

"Marty, great timing," I say.

Cara is immediately distracted by her dad, and she frowns at the cup in his hand.

"I knew I forgot something," she mumbles.

"Pancakes will be another while," Marty tells me. "I had to restart."

"That's okay," I respond.

"Mom," Cara interrupts, "what story do you want?"

"A story?"

"Yeah. You used to read me stories when I was little and sick, so I'm gonna read one to you, except I won't make you sound out words yourself."

"Oh, thanks."

Cara jumps down off the bed and gives me a bow, saying, "It's my pleasure, ma'am."

Then she scurries out of the room, past Marty, and my husband and I share a smile.